Dying is Easy, Living is Hard - oneshot
by rubie
Summary: It promotes suicide... so R would be better... an inner monologue through Folken's thoughts about life and death... also an annoucement about the upcoming awards.


Yes! an opportunity to announce more rules for the awards contest! The dates has been changed, nomination period begins Feb 1st and ends March 18th There will be a form up then, please don't email us before since I will be gone for finals. 

authors can nominate their own fics.  
people can nominate up to 5 fics per category but can only nominate 1 fic once. 

umm... that's it.. here's the story: A semi-dark oneshot. Rated... lets see.... I donnuo.. but if you are kinda suicidal.. read it and it'll help! 

I SWEAR I am not suicidal. This is a bad rough draft. I wrote this between studying. Umm... it swaps from past to present tense not intentionally... please tell me if you see some mistakes. 

Umm.. I really had to get this out of my system so I could study in peace... This is a bit rushed towards the end... *sigh* oh well... I have a web page for m fanfics but its never updated. Last update was in ... uh.. 9/30/00? The archive has some links fixed... 

umm.. those who read it on the mailing list, its been revised little. Not too much... 

Umm.. still trying to figure out what version of crash and burn chapter 4 I'm going to use. Its currently on hold unless you really want to skip it and go on to chapter 5. 

Inspired by flunking a science exam. ^_^ 

Standard disclaimors apply. 

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Dying is Easy, Living is Hard  
by Rubie aka Jenn  
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If you stand close to the azure glass that rise from the mountains to the sky, the world spans out beneath you like the rippling grass, vibrant with life. The impossibly green emerald glowed with the sun, and almost illuminated the Mystic moon, strung on the edge of the skies. The gentle waters paved its path through the forests below like ribbons of silk, soft and smooth. 

It was beautiful. Can such a simple word describe such an exquisite land? 

The paved road seared its way through the forests harshly. The green emerald, once so pure and beautiful, was marred with a fatal flaw. But the moving iotas were oblivious to that crime. They ran excitedly through those streets, chattering so loud that even in his fortress in the sky, he could hear. 

How annoying. 

But the mountains hugged its precious emerald like a child to its mother. Like an older brother to his youths. 

And that was so absurd that he almost smiled..... Almost. 

He owned an apology to his brother. But ten years can erode anything, even the bond of blood. His brother was going to feel pain today. His country was going to die today. What should he feel? Sad? Regretful? Guilty? 

His only guilt was not being able to feel anything. 

His life felt like a dream. 

And you cannot feel anything when you're dreaming. Or can you? 

But he didn't want to wake up. His dream was his armor, and it protected him. 

A dream that was his prison.... 

A dream that began when he lost his arm. A dream so real that he could not discern when he was awake or when he was asleep. A dream so long that he felt never remembered what it was like to be awake. A dream so deep that it fused with day, and made his life like a waking reverie. But life itself is a long dream. To wake from the dream is to die. But to die is the closest you can ever come to being awake. 

He sighed inwardly. His mind was confusing itself. 

And then there are dreams within this dream called life, and sometimes, those are so real that they blend with those two worlds. And the only way you can tell them apart is that you cannot feel pain in those dreams. But why live at all, if you feel pain? Is it not better to dream? 

But people live to feel pain. And yet people fear to die. We can be such fools. 

Life is hard. 

Dying is easy. 

But to die is to run away. And he was not coward. Does it even matter anymore? He was an outcast in Fanelia, whether he was a coward or not was already obvious. Was that why he was doing this? Not for the glory of Zaibach, but for his own petty revenge? 

He didn't know. He didn't want to know. 

It was better not to know actually. Things that you do not know cannot hurt you. And if you live life under walls, then no one will ever be able to touch you. 

But no one will ever be able to love you either. You will be gone when you die. No one will remember you. You will be a shadow in the world, another body to feed those green hills. And your entire life would have been like fragile flower, countless and resplendent on the rolling fields, yet never significant enough to be watched individually. 

But if you die without being remembered, then no one will feel pain once you are gone. That would be good. He didn't deserve their sadness. He didn't want to cause any more pain. 

A thick smoke had begun to rise from the emerald, dancing in the twisted wind. Taunting him. Laughing at him. Coward, they scream in unison. 

He almost grimaced.... Almost. 

Yes, he told them in his mind. Taunt me, yet I feed you. I offer you those people. I offer you those hills. Feed like a parasite and taunt the one who gave you life. At least he still had some dignity. 

The green forests are crumbling now, like a field of wooden toys against a strong wind. Those forests in which he spent his childhood and his memories are dying. Did he want that? Yes... he knew he did. He did not want to be reminded of the other life he spent as a Fanelian prince. To burn away those forests was to burn away any reminisce that such a person existed. 

I'm not that outcast anymore. I've never existed. I'm no longer remembered. 

But he did feel regret. 

And he thought he was living in a dream... 

Was he lying to himself again? 

That thought almost made him laugh... Almost. 

People are so foolish. They try to convince themselves that they are loved... that they are worthy.. that they are important to satify their own aching hearts. They can ignore what hurts them, no matter how obvious it could be. And if they cannot ignore that, then that sense of loss could drive a person to insanity. 

And everyone, including himself, contained aberration. 

They create lies to fill their emptiness, and try to find happiness by causing others pain. That hunger for control and power; it can only be fed by pain. 

So was that him? 

He could not deny it... but at least he was sane enough to realize it. Because nothing could be more foolish than lying to yourself. 

The beautiful emerald was now a ruby, with a flaming interior. Those lush forests had fed that flame, making it glow with life and horror. That flame had consumed the grassland, leaving the hills with a crimson glow. But in years, the grass will rise again, even more vivid than now. 

Grass that grow on the dead. Those crumbling bodies feed the earth, and like a chain that attaches us, the living must live off the dead. Yet the living fear the dead. How ironic. They fear those mythical spirits that wander the earth, yet they trod on them, and build their houses over their bodies. No wonder the dead is so unhappy. 

The living feed off the dead... and the dead? The dead... they laugh at us. For the crimes of stupidity that only we can commit. 

For choosing life over death. 

For choosing pain.   
  
  
End  
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This is confusing... but I was studying history, what do you expect? 

URG! This stupid thing took me an hours to write. Its really weird... there's really nothing else that can describe it. 

Umm.. I don't really like this draft.. umm.. if its ever revised, then I'll just mention it somewhere and give a link. Reposting is a pain for everyone. 

Humm.. takes place right before Fanelia is burned.. but it doesn't really address a specific emotion that well. But hey, that's how people think! People don't usually focus on a thought and stay there for 15 minutes... humm... then again. Folken is... well... I donnuo... 


End file.
